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“I just,” Gunwook pauses and thinks about the weight of his words and if they’ll be too heavy to pick up and take back if things go wrong. He’s already in this far. Ah fuck it.
“Want to see.” The sentence sounds unfinished but Gunwook shuts his mouth tight. He opts for standing tall and proud instead of his usual slouch but feels the facade crumble when his eyes meet Matthew’s. And maybe if he broke this bad habit of acting on intrusive thoughts he wouldn’t be here. He’d be in his top bunk staring at the ceiling listening to Hao snore below him until he falls asleep himself.
But he’s not. He’s here, in Matthew’s room with the door shut behind them.
Matthew’s smile is quite innocent for eyes that are so cunning. Like he knows something Gunwook doesn’t and probably never will. It’s the kind of look he’s always giving him. Makes his head turn.
“Sure.” Matthew shrugs. He pulls the black tank top over his head in only the way boys do and turns his back to Gunwook. He takes pride in his body. He lives at the gym more than Gunwook does and is super dedicated to it in a way Gunwook surprisingly isn’t. It makes him want to match his determination.
“Go ahead,” Matthew says, flexing his back. It’s an invitation.
Gunwook would be a liar if he said he didn’t like this— Matthew’s willingness to go along with anything just because Gunwook asks him to. A type of unbothered attitude that’s so uncommon in their culture it almost gets him into trouble. Matthew can take the heat though, says if he couldn’t he wouldn’t be here. Gunwook admires that part of him.
Just like now, Gunwook’s hands don’t link up with his mind; they move on their own accord—eager and confident with no hesitation. Matthew’s breath hitches slightly when his middle and ring fingers come into contact with his back, tracing the pattern of ink on his shoulder blade. The skin is less rough and more addicting to touch than he thought it’d be. And oh, Gunwook has wanted to touch.
“Did this hurt?”
Matthew visibly relaxes after a while, shoulders dropping. “Nah. Took it like a champ.”
Gunwook feels the corner of his mouth tug, imagining what it was like. “Sure you did.”
“Took about three hours, just felt like getting poked with a needle over and over again.”
“Don’t think I could do it. At least not one this huge.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you’re a big baby.”
Gyuvin and Yujin would argue at that—Ricky might have too. Get up in arms about Matthew’s consistent babying with all of them because he never lets up. Gunwook though, doesn’t mind it. He wants to tell, but will never admit that he likes being doted on. He loves that Matthew is fond enough of him to give him a nickname only for him. Yujin is just a baby in Korean. But Gunwook is baby, in Matthew’s mother tongue.
Gunwook huffs out a laugh and drags his fingers away from the tattoo and to the middle of Matthew’s back. Ghosting them all the way up to the point just below his nape—presses his thumb into the faint divot in his neck. Matthew’s head falls back. Got it.
Matthew squirms slightly before turning his head to look over his shoulder. “Are you just gonna sit in here and touch me all night?”
He would like to. Grope every part of Matthew that he can just because he can. Take and take all wants because Matthew’s character is framed by giving.
“Yeah, you’re soft.” Gunwook responds, even though he feels like he’s teetering on the edge with each movement. He’s an intruder in here after all. By now, Matthew would be getting ready for bed like he usually is. Gunwook gently spins Matthew around by pushing his shoulder back towards him.
Matthew doesn’t look as flustered as he expects him to be when they’re face to face—hooded eyes fluttering open and closed. He’s too exhausted to really think, Gunwook knows because it’s how he feels all time but masks. It’s just Tuesday, but they’ve got a week full of schedules and practice to get through.
Gunwook has grabbed Matthew’s arm many times before. For warmth, whether inside or outside, because Gunwook has always been cold natured. Other times to get his attention when the group is moving and Matthew is straggling off elsewhere. But not like this. Not with finesse, observing the way his hand completely encloses around one of his strong biceps. Not with Gunwook holding it up like a trophy in the palm of his hand—tracing over the encarved H.M.C in his skin with his other.
“I saw what you said about this.”
“Howl's Moving Castle?” They’re foreign words but they sound right enough.
Gunwook nods. “I’m the fireball thing.”
Matthew smiles, seemingly entertained by Gunwook’s lack of knowledge about the movie and characters apart of it. “Yeah, you are. He’s Howl’s heart.”
“So I’m your heart?” Gunwook says before he can take it back, tracing his thumb over the H. No, he doesn’t look down to see, only looks at Matthew. All he can see is Matthew.
Matthew’s eyes search his face for a moment. “To me you are.”
“So you’d die without me.”
“Probably.”
Gunwook let’s Matthew’s arm fall, and instead drags his hands down the sides of them. He stops when he gets to his wrist and curls his fingers around the bone. Gunwook yanks him closer. “Then die.”
Matthew laughs, the kind that makes his smile reach his eyes. “I won’t because I do have you.”
Sometimes Gunwook wants to know if he’s misreading things. What he and Matthew have is everything, but also nothing at all. Their interactions speedrun over the line of friendship but halt before unforbidden territory. It’s like being dangled over a fiery pit of lava.
Maybe if Gunwook wasn’t so unsure about himself and who he is to Matthew this wouldn’t be a problem. There are things he knows but aren’t sure of; what Matthew might be to other people in the group. The parts of himself that he hides from—being too young, too inexperienced, surprisingly too closed off, and more importantly too not used to boys like Matthew. He’s making him question his sanity. Denial is the best self-preservation, but one thing is for sure: Gunwook wants more.
Gunwook walks back until his knees buckle and he’s laying on Matthew’s bed—tugging Matthew over him.
Matthew easily straddles him, taking a seat on Gunwook’s bare thighs and looking down at him with an unreadable expression. Maybe that’s what has Gunwook so fucked. He can’t read him, no matter how hard he tries.
Suddenly, Matthew shakes a hand out of their interlocked ones and presses a thumb to Gunwook’s bottom lip.
“I just want to see.”
He’s done this before, shamelessly in front of at least 15,000 fans and under the guise of getting something off Gunwook’s mouth. A wicked grin sneaks onto Matthew’s face when Gunwook’s lips part slightly—teasing his thumb into his mouth for a second before it’s already gone. It’s things like this—moments where it feels like something before it disappears. Gunwook can’t go insane pondering over the unknown. He won’t.
So he sits up and snakes his arms around Matthew’s waist, catching the latter off guard by the sudden shift in movement.
Gunwook has held Matthew in his arms before. Gunwook has cradled Matthew’s face between his hands with bright eyes looking up at him. Gunwook has stared at Matthew’s lips and thought about what it would be like to kiss him.
“Hyung,” he whispers. And he knows what he looks and sounds like—a lovesick puppy who’s only moving off of instinct because he’s young and can’t help himself. So be it.
Matthew doesn’t look shocked in the slightest, but he does look intrigued. He wraps his hands around Gunwook’s neck, daring Gunwook to say what’s on his mind. Maybe he’s been waiting for the confession this entire time.
“Look at me only.” It’s not what he wants to say. For now, it will do.
Gunwook kisses him first, and it’s sweet until Matthew opens his mouth against his. He’s eager in a way Gunwook can barely keep up with. He curls his fingers into Gunwook’s hair and slips his tongue into his mouth. Gunwook whines around it because it’s too much. Especially when Matthew’s cold hands find a way under his shirt. Thanks to him, all of Gunwook’s past and future kisses are ruined. This particular one will stay in the walls of his memory forever. He’ll only remember this one—he’ll compare the others to this one.
Matthew kisses him like he’s trying to take him apart.
He pulls back after a few seconds, burying his face into the crook of Gunwook’s neck. Gunwook feels the heat in his stomach stir at the graze of Matthew lips against his throat.
“You’ll have to be quiet.”
——
You’d just have to get it.
Gunwook splays his hands around Matthew’s waist and pulls him into his gravity. Back against his chest, hair tickling his cheek, warmness that transcends any layer of clothing between them running hot against his skin. Or, maybe that’s just because they’re like this—because it’s Matthew he’s doing this to, not anyone else.
Matthew’s looking at something on his phone about tattoo care from what Gunwook can see when he hooks his chin over his shoulder.
“How long has it been?”
Matthew sinks back against his chest, like a slab of wood against a wall. What he seeks from Gunwook is comfort—what he knows they have is trust. Like all the times they practiced that stunt for a dance break. Where Gunwook wouldn’t leave until he saw Matthew’s feet touch the ground. Then the other instances where they’d lay in bed together listening to each other’s worries. Where Matthew looked like the words he was speaking had to be forced out. Gunwook did his best to not make it feel like a challenge.
“Week and a half.”
Matthew went and got another tattoo because he said it just felt like he needed to—that it was like reminding himself he was human and not a slave to routine.
Thing is, Gunwook hasn’t seen it yet and, he really wants to.
Matthew clicks off his phone and throws it to the side. Sighing out when Gunwook starts toying with the hem off his shirt—leaning his head back against his shoulder.
“You want to touch me again?”
“Hyung, don’t say it like that,” Gunwook says, even though his hands again don’t match the embarrassment in his words. Instead, they want the smoothness of Matthew’s skin. To feel the faint outline of his abs. More importantly, the patch covering his tattoo.
It’s right underneath his ribs, off to the side. Gunwook knows because of the way he could feel it through Matthew’s shirt a few hours prior. It was, admittedly, not the best idea to be doing all of that on camera. Matthew just doesn’t care and hell—maybe Gunwook doesn’t either anymore.
And Gunwook just needs something to fidget with half of the time. Whether it be someone’s fingers or his own, or perhaps you know, a person.
Looking down like this, he can’t see anything that clearly. That might be better for his heart rate. Matthew doesn’t stop him as he edges his shirt higher—up his stomach and over the curve of his pecs to bunch up at his armpits. It’d be a calculated position to be caught in by anyone else, but the door is shut and locked. Even though that itself still wouldn’t stop Matthew from saying ‘is this really something new’ to anyone who intruded.
Gunwook rests his palm against the covered tattoo and listens for the breath Matthew lets out.
“This one hurt?” he asks, pressing his cheek against Matthew’s. If he tilted his head slightly he could leave a kiss on his neck. Suck a hickey into the skin under his jaw so Matthew would remember that he was there. So he’d have a reason to always think of Gunwook while they were apart.
But he doesn’t. Instead he squishes their cheeks together as if that can communicate all the things he wants to do. Matthew laughs sweetly at the gesture.
Then unfortunately he’s thinking about the scene in his head—Matthew sprawled out on a table. Gunwook wonders if he laid on his side, or if he was on his back. If he twisted himself in the way that was easiest for the artist. He wonders if Matthew makes noises shamelessly or tries to stifle them. If he jerks slightly when the pain is too much or if he stays still and takes it ‘like a champ.’
“Yeah, like a bitch.”
Gunwook laughs. “Potty mouth.”
Matthew hums before breaking out of his hold. Twirling around on his knees and settling himself in Gunwook’s lap like he was meant to be there. His shirt falls back down to cover his torso, much to Gunwook’s demise. He tries not to let it show on his face.
“What happened to tattoo’s being easy?”
“Less meat and more bone by the ribcage.”
“So why get it there if it’ll hurt?”
“Maybe I like it to hurt.”
Gunwook clicks his tongue before laughing. “Weird.”
Matthew stirs in his lap. “So touch me. Like last time.”
Last time. Last time. Last time.
The last time, Gunwook kissed Matthew for the first time. Gunwook still remembers how it felt. How the world shut out around them, how all he could think about was Matthew, and if Matthew would kiss him again after that one.
Gunwook has thought a lot, about the last time.
Months have passed, and because they’re busy it feels like it’s been years. Gunwook’s even had his birthday, which doesn't really make him feel any different than he did before. Maybe it’ll hit him in two months finally.
What’s different is Matthew, and the way Matthew looks at him.
Gunwook reaches to lift up his shirt again, only high enough to spot where the bandage is.
“I want to see it,” Gunwook says. Matthew glances down before peeling the tape off slowly.
“Should be healed enough, I’m just being careful because of how my last tattoo got infected once,” he says, throwing the bandage to the side.
Gunwook doesn’t hesitate to bring his free hand to rest underneath Matthew’s ribcage, running his thumb across the fresh ink on his skin. Matthew squirms, like he can’t help himself.
Gunwook smiles. “You’re sensitive.”
“You are too, without the tattoos,” Matthew says, poking a finger at his chest.
Mindlessly, his hands travel upwards, thumbs trailing near his nipples. No, he doesn’t touch them, even if he wants to. Simply going around them before urging Matthew to pull his shirt over his head.
“Be honest,” Matthew says, muffled momentarily by the cloth covering his face.
If Gunwook’s good at one thing, it’s telling the truth.
“Sure,” he says.
When his shirt is out of the way and thrown across the room Matthew leans forward. “How much do you like my body?”
It’s an easy question, but Gunwook still feels embarrassed at the way it’s been thrown at him. He’s sure the way he’s fondled Matthew’s biceps shamelessly could answer that question. Or perhaps his enthusiasm and willingness to take Matthew’s pictures after they’ve just ‘pumped’ would serve as an explanation. Then there’s also the way he teased him about being sexy! which was really just the truth.
His eyes flicker up to Matthew’s, and now he definitely knows what they hold behind them. There’s no uncertainty between them anymore. What Gunwook wants is what Matthew wants.
Gunwook swallows. “A lot. Obviously,” he answers, combing a hand through his hair. Matthew grins like he knows he’s already won.
“You’re turning pink already.”
“Hyung.”
He and Matthew have a thing. It’s unspoken and unacknowledged—probably because there’s no time to acknowledge it. Gunwook is okay with that, life still goes on even after you kiss your group mate. He’s sure it’d get complicated if they made it a serious thing. It’s fine.
Things were fine when they roomed together overseas. Fine when they swam together in the humid air that’s so foreign in their country.
Since they were in public, they acted accordingly. But for some reason, Gunwook still had the same hesitation follow him all the way back to their hotel room where no one else could see. Even laying in the same king sized bed, in complete freedom and privacy, Gunwook did not make a move on Matthew.
Instead, Matthew drew shapes into his back with his fingers until the gentle touch was enough to make him fall asleep. It wasn’t ideal, but it was nice.
The next morning he woke up first. Matthew looked so peaceful bundled in white covers. Gunwook reached out to put a fallen piece of hair back into place, even if it was already messed up as a whole. He thought about a universe where they weren’t idols and this was his everyday life. It felt like a thought that shouldn’t have been in his head at all.
Gunwook thinks about Matthew a whole lot.
“Baby.” It comes out in English, as usual. Matthew’s only amped up the amount of baby’s he can fit into each sentence over the past few weeks. Gunwook doesn’t complain.
Matthew leans forward, resting his head on Gunwook’s shoulder.
“What’d you wish for on New Years?” He asks, running his finger over the mole right between Gunwook’s collarbones. He touches that a lot because it’s ‘cute’ to him.
Honestly he was more focused on showing the camera that he was indeed 20 now. Making a two and zero with his hands and waving them around. Matthew was somewhere on the other side shivering in the cold winter air.
Gunwook drags his fingertips up Matthew’s back. “I don’t know, I wasn't thinking about it. What’d you wish for?”
“To be able to kiss you again.”
“Why don’t you?”
Matthew sits up again and grabs Gunwook’s hand to place it over his heart. His hand is way too big though and it looks like he’s groping him. Gunwook laughs under his breath.
“You feel it don’t you,” Matthew states rather than asks. Gunwook nods and curls his fingers into his chest. Matthew’s heartbeat pulses fast against his palm.
“I do.”
“You make me nervous.”
It’s a funny thing to say while he’s sitting on top of him shirtless but, Gunwook doesn’t laugh. He’s too focused on how he makes Matthew, of all people, nervous.
“You don’t seem very nervous.”
“Despite what I feel I’ll never make you feel anything less than wanted.”
Gunwook pulls him back in by his wrists. “Fancy sentence, Matthew Seok.”
Maybe uncharacteristically, Gunwook’s not a very good kisser, at least in his personal opinion. Last time, he parted his lips and took whatever Matthew was willing to give him. It was rushed, hectic, hungry even. Like two animals clawing at each other. He left his room with messed up hair and a dizzy sensation.
Tonight doesn’t feel like the last time.
Matthew brushes their noses together slightly, pausing, like he’s thinking about what to do next. Hesitation is unlike him.
Right now, Gunwook is just thankful for the darkness of the room. Thankful for the confession that Matthew is just as nervous as he is about what they could be. Gunwook tilts his head to the side, breath fanning over Matthew’s lips. So close, yet so far.
Unlike the last time, Matthew kisses him first.